


Tea Sprite

by Pi (Rhea)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, M/M, Tea Sprite, unrequited brief Stiles->Lydia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 08:29:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhea/pseuds/Pi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia gives Derek tea as a house warming present. Stiles is a tea sprite.</p><p>Christmas present for Shiny, <3 you!!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tea Sprite

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shiny](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Shiny).



Derek does not throw a housewarming party for his new apartment. It's a step up from the last place, but definitely nothing to brag about. It has working plumbing however, and that's something. Of course, Lydia Martin does not need the excuse of a house warming party. She invites herself over anyway. Her expression of distaste as she steps across his threshold is wonderfully eloquent. Derek sighs.  
"Well, at least there are no obvious vermin," Lydia sniffs and perches on the edge of his kitchen chair. Derek stands. There's only one chair at the small table.  
"Thank you Lydia," Derek mutters.  
"Oh, don't be ungrateful. You could have moved in with Jackson and I." She purses her lips. Derek just raises an eyebrow at her. They've been over this conversation, and all the reasons why Derek moving into the perfectly maintained and exquisitely decorated abode of Lydia and Jackson is a spectacularly bad idea, not just because Jackson can be a territorial asshole.  
"Fine, I admit you have a point." Lydia flicks her fingers dismissively, "but you still could have done better than this place." Derek shrugs, he isn't squatting and if he's going to pay rent it won't be an arm and a leg. Lydia knows this.  
"But since you insist on brooding in squalor and run down buildings, I brought you tea." Lydia pulls a bright green canister from her purse and sets it on the table. "I assume you have something that could boil water in this place." Lydia wrinkles her nose and Derek counts down the minutes until it's appropriate to throw her out of his apartment.

Derek doesn't drink tea, so the canister sits with the dusty teacups on the shelf of his mostly empty kitchen. The tea cups were a gift from Isaac at christmas two years ago. They're delicately painted with winter scenes, houses with smoke from the chimney's, an iced over stream, deer with large antlers and, the reason Derek imagines Isaac bought them, a running pack of wolves. Sitting on the shelf, the scenes are all upside down, it still makes him smile. It might be that comfort, or the fact that he's run out of everything else and is too achy to go to the store that makes Derek resort to drinking Lydia's tea. Werewolves rarely get sick, but there is the occasional cold or flu that makes the jump to survive werewolf physiology. Derek dusts off one of the cups and boils water before shaking out a few of the tea pearls into the cup. They're fancy and green and unfurl into the hot water letting off a comforting, earthy aroma. Derek closes his eyes and breathes in the steam. It does seem to clear up his stuffy nose. When he downs the cup, still almost scalding, the tea eases his aching throat on the way down. It's actually a lovely flavor and Derek takes a moment to savor it with his eyes closed, cup held to his lips. Then he washes the cup because if he doesn't do it now, he wont do it later and deposits the cup back on the shelf with the closed tea canister. 

 

\---- 

The first thing Stiles notices when he unfurls exuberantly is the nose currently hovering over his teacup. Stiles can understand. Stiles smells great. Stiles stretches and brews a bit, settling down to make a nice cup of tea like you're supposed to when the heathen holding his cup attempts to down it all in one gulp. The guy has far to much stubble and drinks like vacuume with absolutely no sense of propriety. Tea is for sipping. And this water is still seriously hot. Stiles hopes the tea-drinker burns his tongue. Then he has the gumption to immediately wash his cup, no time for Stiles to clamber free. Between fighting against the truly cold, rushing water, and clinging for dear life to the edge of the cup Stiles is worried that his short but brilliant life is about to come to a terrible end. By some miracle Stiles is not washed down the drain to deal with whatever denizens live in the pipe system, and instead manages to hang on until he and his teacup are deposited on a high, dusty shelf. 

Stiles takes in his surroundings. He's set amidst a line of dusty cups. They're pretty, Stiles' own cup has a lovely image of a pack of wolves running through a winter forrest, but the thick layer of dust on all the other cups is not promising. The canister of tea to his left, twice as tall as Stiles himself, is newer. That's promising, but it's also barely used. Stiles sighs and clambers up to perch on the bottom of the cup. Stiles is in for a life of boredom. That sucks. 

\---

Derek recovers from his cold and goes back to work. It's nice because he's outside most of the time and being a werewolf certainly has it perks for work in construction. Derek ignores the fact that he has 10 missed messages on his cellphone. Four are from Lydia, two from Isaac, his bi-weekly calls from graduate school upstate, and one is from Erika which means it's also from Boyd. Derek only hopes they aren't asking him to babysit again. The final is from a number he doesn't recognize, but given how often Scott seems to loose or break his phone Derek has suspicions who it's from. Ignoring messages on his phone is always a dangerous choice. This general truth is proven correct when Derek comes back to his apartment to find Lydia on his couch, curled up with a cup of tea and a stack of papers.  
"What are you doing here Lydia?" Derek asks.  
"Grading." Lydia answers without looking up. She sips at her tea.  
"I can see that. But why are you doing it in my house?"  
"It's an apartment not a house, barely that even. I'm checking in because you didn't return my calls. Your bedroom is filthy. Were you sick?" Lydia flicks her eyes up at him. Derek frowns at her.  
"Yes. I isolated myself to keep you and Jackson from catching anything."  
"Mm hm."  
"Fine, don't believe me."  
"I do believe you. Stop glaring." Lydia closes the file of papers. "I brought you more tea. I spoke with Scott, he has a new phone by the way. He met another doctor who knows about werewolves through his residency. Apparently this particular tea is very calming for your wolf. You should drink it on the full moon." Lydia points to a bag of what must be tea sitting on the arm of the chair.  
Derek growls, "Seriously, 'calming'?"  
Lydia rolls her eyes, " _You_ should probably drink it all the time." She stands, leaving the tea on the couch. "Besides, it'll help with your senses over reacting. I know you were complaining about sawdust headaches." Lydia arches an eyebrow at him. "this way I don't have to hear you whine."  
"I thought I was supposed to be the Alpha," Derek grumbles. Lydia just smiles at him.  
"You still are. But we're pack, we're here to take care of you and know what's best for you. Drink it." Lydia points emphatically at the cup with one perfectly manicured nail. "I'll know if you don't," She warns, and leaves in a cloud of strawberry perfume and high heels. Derek snorts to clear the smell from his nose. He's fairly certain that was on purpose; he already has a slight headache. 

\---

Stiles has never seen a more gorgeous woman in his life. Her hair is like a forest fire at sunset. Her fingers curl elegantly around a tea cup. She dusts them with reverence. All of them. Stiles hides behind the tea canister and watches her. He has to dart for the shadows at the back of the shelf when she snaps that up next. She boils her water in a kettle on the stove. It's new and shiny and Stiles really hopes she leaves it behind. It would be a great addition to his kitchen. She makes her tea with economy of movement and precision. Stiles is in love. He even jumps down from the shelf to follow her to the living room. It'll be a bitch to get back up on his shelf, but for her it's worth it. He doesn't touch her, and he's certain to stay out of sight, and Stiles really hopes this goddess who has chosen to grace his dreary world with her presence will show up more often. Stiles is so distracted watching her that he doesn't even notice his tea-drinker get home. Stiles is generally very attuned to the man, who's name Stiles surmises from sneaking looks at his cellphone and listening in on conversations, is Derek. So Stiles visibly startles when Derek's voice asks, "What are you doing here, Lydia?" Lydia, the tea drinking goddess is unruffled. Stiles hopes his spastic jump, what must have been at lest three inches in the air, went unnoticed. Stiles decides he should sneak back to the kitchen before the insanity of his trek along the overly dusty, frankly disgusting moldings to the doorframe of the living room becomes even more ill-advised. However he's caught by Lydia's mention of _werewolves_. Stiles didn't know werewolves were real. Admittedly, he doesn't have much to draw on, he's still pretty young and lacking in life experiences, and if tea sprites are a thing, why not fuzzy, murderous beasts that howl at the full moon? Stiles would never have guessed his tea-drinker was a werewolf though. That's so cool. Stiles has the best job ever. He gets to brew tea for a werewolf. How awesome is that? It totally explains Derek's growly, grouchy tendencies. Stiles resolves then and there that he's going to make the best tasting, most calming, werewolf mellowing tea in the world. He is up to the task. Between his talents and Lydia's insistence they're going to make Derek's life a blissful tea drinking existence. Stiles is so pumped for this. He runs back to his shelf and clambers up, totally ready to get started. 

The best way to really get in on the brewing process is to be in the cup. As a tea sprite, Stiles is innately aware of this. So Stiles makes sure to start sneaking into Derek's tea cups, particularly when he's steeping his werewolf calming tea. Stiles gets the idea that Derek probably doesn't like tea naturally. Stiles was here for a month and Derek only drank tea when he was sick, but now Lydia's forcing him, it's a more frequent occurrence. At first Stiles hides in the bottom of the cup, communes with the tea ball and swims some lazy circles to get just the right mixture and blend of the flavors. Stiles is a pro at this. Also, he's a little worried that a werewolf, being itself a magical creature, might be able to see him. But when Derek doesn't comment or even look at Stiles, Stiles gets bolder. It's not that he can't stay under, be one with the tea, but it's so much more fun to really lounge while doing it. And honestly Stiles likes to talk. It's not like Derek can hear him, but it's lonely hanging out on a dusty shelf with just the painted deer and wolves for company. So Stiles makes the tea drinking experience better for both of them. He keeps up a good conversation and makes the best damn tea ever.

\-----

Derek isn't sure what's happening, but he's fairly certain Lydia's tea makes him hallucinate. The next time she comes over he's going to tell her. At first Derek just thought there was something about the tea leaves in the bottom of his cup, there wasn't actually a small man swimming down there, it was an optical illusion. Something. But over the last week the man in his tea cup has spent more time hanging out at the surface talking than swimming in lazy circles. He lounges with his arms over the side of the cup, and comments on the temperature of the water, the quality of this particular assortment of tea leaves, the phases of the moon. Sometimes he splashes in the water, blows bubbles in it and kicks his feet. Derek takes to carefully sipping around him because, if he's not crazy and there is a small, naked, man in his tea cup Derek doesn't want to accidentally drink him. Derek is not a naturally dainty tea drinker. It's quite maddening.

It seems like the little man understands this because the third time Derek attempts to drink his tea with a tea spoon rather than in a single gulp the small man literally jumps out of the water.  
Clinging to the spoon for leverage he says, "Hey, no. It's okay. You don't have to sip around me. See!" and he stuck his hand forward, landing solid and open palmed against Derek's chin. Derek drops the spoon and with a garbled yelp the man topples over backwards into the teacup. He comes up spluttering and glaring. "Gee, thanks. That's really nice of you." Derek opens his mouth, wordless.  
Finally he growls, "Your side of the cup, my side of the cup." and points vehemently. The small man swims to his side of the cup with an overblown eyeroll.  
"Seriously?" he huffs, but he stays in his corner, mostly. Sometimes when Derek raises the cup to his lips, the man sticks his foot over into Derek's side of the cup and wriggles his toes around. He generally stops when Derek glares at him though. That night Derek calls Lydia. He has no idea how to have this conversation without sounding insane so he just invites her over for tea the next day. Even as she hangs up, Derek knows she's suspicious. 

When Lydia arrives, Derek has two cups set out steeping their tea. The small man is in his cup.  
"What, this is my cup. I was born in this cup, this is where I make my best tea. Deal with it." he'd said when Derek had asked if he wanted to be in the other cup instead.  
"Alright, what is going on?" Lydia asks, not picking up her teacup but instead folding her arms across her chest and fixing Derek with a scrutinizing stare.  
"The tea goddess," murmurs a voice from Derek's cup. The small man has his fingers curled over the rim and just his eyes peering over the top, up at Lydia.  
"What do you see when you look in my tea cup?" Derek asks. Lydia gives him a quizzical expression. She leans over the table slightly to look.  
"I see tea." She says. She flips her hair over her shoulder and sits down. She leans towards Derek, her elbows resting on the table. "Are you sure you're okay? This is weird even for you."  
"When I look in my tea cup I see a small, naked man." Derek states slowly and evenly. "Either I'm going crazy or your tea causes hallucinations. I'm not fond of either of these options."  
"A small, naked man." Lydia repeats.  
"Hey!" the man splutters, "there's nothing wrong with that. I'm au natural. I'm a tea sprite what do you expect? I can't brew tea in a tutu!" He crosses his legs and folds his arms, sinking to the bottom of Derek's tea cup in a huff.  
"He claims to be a tea sprite." Derek continues. Lydia bursts out laughing.  
"There is a small naked man who claims to be a tea sprite in your cup and he talks to you? Derek that is priceless." Lydia beams at him. "Really?"  
"Really." Derek mutters in return. Does she really have to be so gleeful about this?  
"Oh that's wonderful. I didn't know they were still around." Derek is thrown by her bright eyed enthusiastic clapping. "My grandmother had a tea sprite. Best tea I'd ever tasted." Lydia grabs her cup with none of her usual dignity and takes a sip. She wrinkles her nose, "Maybe slightly better than usual, but not that good." she frowns with disappointment.  
"He, uh, hasn't been in that cup." Derek offers.  
"He's in yours now?"  
"Yes, he's sulking at the bottom I think." Derek peers into his tea cup. The small man had resolutely turned his back on them.  
"Ask him to come out." Lydia smiles. Derek tries to tap at the man with his spoon. He rages to the surface.  
"What's the big idea? You insult me and ignore me, and keep me from doing my job properly and now you poke me with a spoon?"  
"Uh, hi." Derek says. "You're a tea sprite?"  
"Damn right I'm a tea sprite. What else would I be?"  
"He's talking?" Lydia asks. Derek nods. The tea sprite whirls to face her, then proceeds to full-body blush.  
"Actually he's staring at you and blushing." Derek tries to wrap his head around the fact that there is a tiny man in his tea cup who appears to have a crush on Lydia Martin.  
"That's so sweet. Ask his name!" Lydia requests.  
"What's your name?" Derek asks.  
"I heard her when she asked." the tea sprite grumbles, "And it's Stiles if you must know. And you're Derek the grumpy werewolf and she's Lydia, goddess of tea, no introductions needed."  
"Why can I see him?" Derek asks, "I mean, you're a witch, it can't be just a magic thing." Derek considers, "His name is Stiles."  
"Well, I've heard that tea sprites are only seen by the people of their houses. They run in families so to speak." Lydia muses.  
"Huh." Derek shrugs, "well I guess I'm not going crazy." 

\-----

Now that the grumpy werewolf Derek acknowledges him, Stiles' life is better. He gets to actually have a conversational partner not just a non-communitive asshole tea drinker. Well, Derek still isn't very responsive but he glares a lot less and has lightened up on side-of-the-cup rules. In return, Stiles takes his time making each cup of tea perfect, and he no longer has to fight for his life upon the washing of those tea cups. He does decline Derek's offer of barbie doll clothes. Firstly because the wouldn't fit and secondly because who wants poorly made mostly plastic/cotton monstrosities in their tea? Not Stiles. Over the next few weeks Stiles almost comes to think of them as friends. Derek now drinks two cups of tea a day, sometimes even three. One in the morning first thing before even breakfast, and one in the evening last thing before bed. He drinks five cups of tea the night of the full moon and lets Stiles sit, poking his toes through the sludge of escaped tea leaves in the dregs of the cup while the moon shines bright through the window. It's companionable, and Derek thanks him, at the end of the night, for such an easy shift. It makes Stiles feel awkward, the tea probably did help but he can't really take credit for it, it's his job. 

Still, even though things are better with Derek, the highlight of each month is when Lydia comes to visit. Her sweet smell brightens the apartment, and Stiles' life. She'll talk to him even though she can't see him. Stiles thinks it's probably 80% because of how annoyed it makes Derek to translate between them repeating Stiles words to her, but Stiles appreciates the attention anyway. Still, each time, Derek seems to be rushing her out the door more quickly. Stiles can't understand it. They're pack mates right? She's a super hot, super sweet, super smart witch, why would Derek not want to hang out with her. Stiles also finds out she's married to some jerkoff werewolf named Jackson and Stiles spends a week wallowing in the bottom of various tea cups until Derek tells him he's making the tea taste bitter and stops drinking it all together. 

On the third day Derek ignores him entirely and doesn't make any tea Stiles starts to panic. If he can't make tea what is the point of his life? Stiles frets and rearranges the overly heavy tea cups and buries himself in the bag of calming tea when he feels like he's going to fly apart from panic. Stile stays in the bag of tea for a week. Nobody touches it. Lydia doesn't come by and Derek seems to be avoiding the kitchen entirely. Halfway through the second week Stiles gives up. If Derek isn't going to drink tea anymore, Stiles' life purpose is destroyed. He might as well go exploring and find a place to run away to, never to return. It's pretty pathetic thinking, but the prospect of exploratory adventures is actually kind of fun. It takes a while for Stiles to get around, crossing the vast distance of the kitchen floor and slowly negotiating the hallway. Stiles has heard Lydia's commentary on vermin and does not want to come across a rat. That would be a tragic end for a tragic life. 

Stiles doesn't run into a rat, but he does find, in the top of the highest shelf in the closet, an old, beat up card board box that contains a set of tea cups. They're more delicate than the winter scene ones that live in the kitchen, actual china patterned with bright purple flowers and gold paint. They're wrapped in soft tissue paper and smell a bit like lavender and Stiles nestles himself among them. 

\----

Derek stopped drinking tea when it was clear that Stiles was sulking over Lydia. It didn't make the tea taste bad exactly, bittersweet and sorrowful and enough like heart ache that it sours in the back of Derek's mouth. It'd be really poignant, actually. Derek is sure tea connoisseurs would pay to drink something with such a delicate, complex taste. Derek winds up vehemently dumping the last cup down the drain. He swears off tea. And then, when Stiles starts watching him with mournful betrayed eyes from the top of the tea canister, Derek swears of the kitchen entirely. But the frustrating part of all of it is that Derek finds himself craving tea. He'll wake up in the morning and his first thought is to turn on the water to boil. Instead he changes into his work clothes and buys breakfast on the drive to work. He has trouble falling asleep, the taste in the back of his throat all wrong. And when the full moon comes Derek regrets ever having met Stiles at all because he wouldn't know how much better it could be. Halfway through the night he stumbles into the kitchen and makes himself a cup of Lydia's wolf calming tea. Stiles is nowhere to be seen. Maybe it's because he didn't drink it before the moon rose, but it's not nearly as effective as usual. Derek essues the kitchen chair and sits on the floor with his back up against the cupboards. Now that the pack is mostly dispersed they don't run together on full moons. They make an effort at least twice a year, more if they can, but Derek has grown used to being mostly by himself. He never realized how lonely it was. How much he missed his pack, how much he missed Stiles. Derek falls asleep on the kitchen floor.

Even with werewolf healing abilities, Derek still wakes up feeling sore. He heaves himself off the floor and determines that he's going to track down Stiles. Lydia had said a tea sprite is bound to a family, can't leave it's home. Derek is going to find the little bugger and talk to him. He still isn't in his usual spot by the cups. He isn't in the bag of tea. He isn't under the cushions in the living room. Derek realizes at the point he's tearing apart his couch that he really ought to just track Stiles with his nose. He knows what the tea sprite smells like. He smells like tea. This leads Derek promptly back to the kitchen. Derek carefully moves through the house, searching for any hint of that tea-scent. It's strongest in the kitchen of course, and faintly present in the living room, probably from when Derek stat to enjoy is tea on the couch rather than on the kitchens' paltry chair. The slightest hint of the tea-scent also hovers around the hallway closet. Derek opens it carefully. He hasn't moved most of the stuff in here since he moved in. Old boxes, the few things he and Laura managed to salvage. Winter bedding he bought second hand. Odds and ends, a few wool socks and a hat with small pointy ears Erika had given him as a prank. Derek scans the shelves, but he doesn't see Stiles. The smell gently permeates through the closet and Derek can't quite pinpoint the source. He starts to pull things out, one after another. At first he's methodical, slow, but he's still finding hide nor hair of the small man and if anything the smells getting fainter. Derek starts tossing items behind him into the hallway. Most of it isn't breakable and he takes the time to move Laura's boxes carefully. Eventually he's down to the top two shelves. He's reaching for what looks like candle in the shape of Santa Claus (Derek thinks Allison is to blame but he can't remember) when something in one of the boxes on the highest shelf rustles. 

Derek ceases all movement, his hand frozen around Santa's waxy belly. A familiar head pokes out of the top of the box, covered in tissue paper. Stiles peers down, and at the chaos spilling out into the hallway.  
"Looking for something?"  
Derek's sigh of relief is involuntary. He reaches up and eases the box off the shelf. Stiles yelps and flails at the movement. Plucking the tissue paper aside, Derek sees that Stiles is standing among his sister's tea set. His mothers too, it was a family heirloom, saved because it had been hidden in the tool shed in the back yard. His youngest niece had set her eye on it. Laura had removed it from it's glass cabinet and hidden it in the tool shed for until Anya had gotten over her obsession with tea parties. Derek runs a reverent, slightly shaking finger over the rim of one of the top cups.  
Stiles watches, "It has a story doesn't it." Derek nods. "You know, I think a cup of tea might make you feel better," Stiles offers, his smile is tentative but bright.  
"Yeah. Thanks." Derek carries the tea set to the kitchen. He hasn't ever used it himself. Stiles sits in the cup, arms curled about his knees while Derek boils the water.  
"I'm sorry I ran away." Stiles says, just before the kettle begins to sing. Derek plucks it off the stove.  
"You're forgiven. Will this be too hot?" Derek gestures with the steaming kettle.  
"Oh no, that's perfect. I've been feeling a bit dry recently." Stiles stretches his arms over his head and dives under the stream as Derek pours. Derek tries not to laugh as Stiles does a little happy dance under the hot water.  
"Better?" Derek asks once Stiles is back to lazily kicking his legs.  
"Oh, definitely. How about you? No, wait, take a sip first." Stiles grins. Derek does. It tastes better than he remembered.  
"Thank you." Derek says softly. Stiles smiles, bright and open. Something about it makes Derek continue, "I missed you." It's unintentionally honest. Derek side eyes Stiles, waiting for a reaction.  
"That's awesome! I mean, I'm sorry. I was a bit," he makes a hand gesture Derek thinks is supposed to encompass, 'sad, lovelorn,' and perhaps 'an idiot'. Derek clears his throat and takes another sip of tea.  
"As long as you don't go disappearing again." Derek mutters.  
"You really missed me," Stiles crows and does a pirouette in the cup, "You like me, you think I'm tasty!" he sing songs. "You really love me." Derek rolls his eyes and tries not to blush. It's a failed attempt. Watching what is no doubt Derek's uncomfortable, flushed expression Stiles tumbles to a halt. "Wait, you really like me?" Derek shrugs. "Oh my god, that's awesome!" Stiles jumps and makes victory arms, sending a small wave of tea crashing against the side of the cup. "I love you too!" He's grinning brighter than Derek thinks he's ever seen. On impulse Derek leans down and presses a soft kiss to Stiles' mouth, and by association half his face. Stiles kisses him back, hand caressing against Derek's jaw before he takes a step back.  
"Wow, that's so awesome." Stiles breathes. "I am the best tea sprite ever!" 

Derek's tea definitely tastes like joy and affection. It's the sweetest thing he's ever tasted, though they find later, a side of lust isn't a bad flavor either.


End file.
